Frozen Hearts
by LoveBlossoms
Summary: When he was killed during the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione's entire life changed. Forced to move on, but ultimately unable to heal the wounds in heart, she finds herself merely dragging herself along. And then, that first Christmas Eve without him, a visitor breaks up her nightly tradition and offers her a possibility of change. AU Post-Hogwarts


I stood there as if frozen, unable to turn away my gaze. The snow fell in heavy white flurries around me, making it impossible to keep the biting chill away. I burrowed my hands further into the pockets of my jacket. Logic demanded that I turn away and return to the precariously leaning house behind me. If I were to look at it, I knew the kitchen, living room, and several of the upper bedrooms would be swamped with light. But I did not turn around to look. The room I would want to see lit would, yet again, be left to the darkness. Instead, I stood there, my eyes looking but seeing nothing. Besides, I was too frozen metaphorically to walk away from the tombstone.

Ground crunched behind me, the only sound given to warn me of someone approaching. I didn't turn to see who it was, no doubt it being someone wanting me to return to the warmth of the house before I lost complete feeling in my hands. The house wasn't warm, though, not anymore. Not since that night when the future I had so easily dreamed of was destroyed.

A hand reached out and placed a jar next to the tombstone—within it was magical fire. I could feel the warmth emanating from it, despite it being such a distance from me. I waited for my visitor to speak, still not finding the will to turn away from the damning piece of stone in front of me. When it became clear that whoever it was planned to remain silent, I found it within myself to say something.

"I'm not going in there. Not with Tonks's parents there with Teddy. I just… I just can't." My voice was quiet, weak. It sounded as if I had lost all will to fight. And, in truth, I had. I had lost part of me that night, when the blast of magic came through the wall and killed him.

"I didn't come out here to convince you to go grovel at the feet of a baby, Granger."

I jerked my head around to look at the person next to me, shocked. Of all the people currently at the Burrow, the last one I expected to speak civilly to me—much less stand in the snow on Christmas Eve with me—was Mr. Draco Malfoy.

"And don't think I came out here for you, either," he told me, his lips rising into a sneer. "I figured this area would be empty. Merlin knows that all I want is to be away from all those Mudblood lovers."

I remained quiet, unsure of how to progress. Draco looked at me for a moment before his eyes flitted away. I watched them dance over the stone; one eyebrow cocked in interest as they took in the information so appallingly shown there.

"But then again, I hadn't realized they buried him within the garden," he muttered. Rolling his eyes, he continued, "They could've at least put him on the other side of the wall. Who the hell wants to look at this all the damn time?" He looked back at me then. His face gained a strange look, almost compassionate, before he sighed and the scowl returned. "Your freezing won't bring him back, you know. The Mudblood lover is gone."

"If you're just going to criticize me, then you might as well find a different patch of the garden," I spat at him, venom creeping into my voice.

Malfoy simply cocked that eyebrow again. "Or what, Granger?"

I opened my mouth to fire a threat, but nothing came out.

He laughed maliciously then, his entire chest rising and falling in time. "Please, Granger, at least _try_ to be witty like you used to."

I fired off the first thing that came to mind. "I'll report you to the Ministry for harassment."

He didn't miss a beat. "That's honestly the best you could do?" He paused, took a step closer to me, put his hand on the tombstone. "I know you don't have your wand on you," he whispered. I watched his breath skate between his teeth, whitening the air between us. Some foreign part of my stomach pulled up tight, and I found it difficult to focus on what he was saying. 'What could you _possibly_ take from me that the Ministry hasn't already?" He spat the question, letting it fly off his tongue with more venom than I had ever heard from him.

I took a step towards him, pulled in by a strange, enigmatic magnetism. I could hardly breathe. What was wrong with me? He cocked that damn eyebrow again, and suddenly everything dissolved. My stomach loosened, the air came back into my lungs. I quickly stepped back from him, desperate to remember why I had come out here in the first place.

"Look," I told him, returning to my weak, monotone voice. "I know that standing out here, freezing, won't bring him back. It won't change what happened that night, and it certainly won't change the fallout from it over the last six months." I shoved my cold hands even deeper into my pockets. "And I don't expect you to understand, ok? But being out here, whether or not exactly _here_, where he's buried, no matter how cold and lonely, is leagues better than sitting in that house with the empty room, with everyone else who never knew about us that way and don't understand why I can't get over it." I could feel my eyes burning with the beginnings of tears. I tried desperately to hold them back.

Malfoy let out a harsh breath. His eyes searched my face for a long moment before reaching for the jar on the tombstone. He then offered his arm to me. I watched him, hesitating at the kind gesture.

"Well, come on, Granger. I haven't got all night," he muttered. I gently laid my hand on top of his forearm, where he had offered it. He began walking, and I followed him quietly, unsure of what was happening.

"I understand that, Granger," he told me as we walked past the wall marking the end of the garden. "If anybody bloody here understands what it is you're feeling, it's me." I nodded, looking straight ahead, and followed him into the night, without looking back at the house.


End file.
